


Need You To Do Me Favors

by grosss



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bottom Gerard Way, Feeding Kink, Hesitant Alien Era, Hesitant alien, I'm so sorry mom amen, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Purple Shirt, Stuffing, frank iero - Freeform, gerard way - Freeform, if u know u know, just implied yknow, pink shirt, typing out these tags is making me cringe god I hate myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grosss/pseuds/grosss
Summary: Frank is looking at him with a mixture of lust and concern- that's always what it is, Frank pushing him and punishing him while getting all anxious over Gerard's wellbeing.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Need You To Do Me Favors

**Author's Note:**

> boo hoo I'm a disgusting baby take it or leave it xoxo gossip girl
> 
> Hello, friends. Taking a break from the social media and news abyss (which should be top priority right now) to give you guys a little something. Let's relax with some top tier garbage from yours truly. I'm sorry that I haven't posted for so long, and sorry that this is a bit short. Writers' block doesn't sound legit when talking about kinky fanfiction that I have absolutely no business writing. I'm just lazy. 
> 
> I'm not sure what happened with this particular fic, it's a little short and messy and I've been working on it here and there for a few weeks now, and it isn't very long. It's almost more of a drabble. Sorry! We're in dire need of more hesitant alien fic of this uh, style, because we all know what was up with Gerard back then. If u know u know
> 
> Some notes because this box says "notes" on it:  
> 1\. This is a work of fiction, and is in no way shape or form meant to represent real events or to hold ANY truth about the people mentioned within. No harm is meant. We're just having some fun. 
> 
> 2\. If you struggle with disordered eating or body dysmorphia, this may be triggering or upsetting to you, and I would advise to skip this one. That being said, I'd like 2 mention that I do not mean any disrespect or harm in writing these kinds of fanfics- it's purely a fetish thing, and I do not intend to trigger or belittle anyone, especially the celebrities that I am writing about. I cannot control my shitty brain, and I haven't been able to since I was five years old. This is what I get for never believing in God. 
> 
> 3\. I made another tumblr for this account since I forgot the throwaway email I used for the last tumblr account I made for this account. I'm now at grosssontumlr (without the B). Send me asks if yr freaky. I would only like to talk to people who are over the age of 18, though. I hope y'all understand.

The Fonda, Los Angeles, 2014  
12:07 AM

"Frank,” Gerard hears his own voice come out strained and breathy. “Can I please- just the belt,” he begs, shifting on his knees and clinging to Frank’s left leg. He clutches his stomach with his free hand, trying and failing to breathe evenly. His suit pants are starting to hurt him, and the belt isn’t helping as it digs into his lower belly. His shirt is tight around him, a shirt that’s a little snug on his best days, but he likes it for touring- is now losing a battle against his body. They haven’t done this in years, and Gerard really, really doesn’t want to be sick, because he’s having fun.  
“Frank, Frankie-“ he tries again, doesn’t mind begging, and winces as he settles back on his heels. The weight he’s gained back in the last six years on top of the treats frank has unceremoniously pushed on him have settled around his middle like a ton of bricks. As he shifts he swears he can hear fabric stretching, and frowns for a split second because he really /does/ love that shirt. The salmon pink material is a little strained now, and Gerard can feel how red his face is. He feels good and bad and sexy and like he deserves /some/ praise for what he’s putting himself through, even though he relishes every minute, but Frank has stopped pushing the treats into his waiting mouth, is just sitting there with his own tattooed hand dangerously close to his own obviously hard dick in his cargo shorts.  
“Frank.” Gerard wiggles uncomfortably again, stifles a hiccup. “Can I please take off the belt?” “I’ll- shit,” he hiccups again. “I’ll eat another six if you just let me-“  
Frank only moves his hand closer to his own cock, and for a second Gerard thinks that’s he’s finally going to get to suck him off, but he doesn’t move to undo his shirts. Frank only shoots him one of his shit-eating grins. “No.”

The Fonda, Los Angeles, 2014  
11:00 PM

"You seem like you've been doing just fine without me, first tour solo and all." Frank keeps his voice level somehow, not shy at all about raking his eyes up and down and back and forth over Gerard's body while he's slumped in the green room chair. That could be interpreted any number of ways, but at the moment, Frank is talking about Gerard's figure, the way he fills out his crumpled suit /so/ nicely, not hiding his body behind tentlike fabric like he did so many years ago. Gerard smiles a little, attune to the attention and the flirting, as always- that certainly hasn't changed.  
Frank drags a spare folding chair over and plops down next to him, leaning in near his shoulder. "That is, unless someone else has been keeping you this well-fed."  
Frank can practically /hear/ Gerard's breath hitch a little, sees the flush rise in his cheeks, as if he hadn't been expecting it. He only hums a little, and shakes his head in a quiet "no". 

"Just me this time." Gerard smiles now, feeling more comfortable next to Frank, falling into old routine. He does what he wants, eats what he wants, and if Frank thinks he looks good, well, that's alright. 

Frank leans in, giving him a chase kiss on his red cheek while ghosting his left hand over Gerard's suit jacket. He moves his blinding pink tie out of the way, tugs on it a little, and hears Gerard make a strangled noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

Frank leans back and they catch up properly this time, nothing like their texts or brief meetings over the years whenever Gerard is in Jersey to see family or when Frank visits friends of his in LA.  
Frank relaxes a little, a feeling of familiar warmth and comfort falling over the room. Gerard tells him about his record, all excitement and pride, tells Frank how much he loves watching him be a frontman again. 

They talk and Gerard eats and eats, almost too wrapped up in conversation to notice or remember Frank’s intentions. Frank nearly forgets too, giggling like a teenager over some memory, absorbed in Gerard’s crooked smile.

“You think all that weight you put on in 04 was from tour food alone?” Frank snorts, a quiet “please.”  
“No,” Gerard’s face reddens, and Frank knows what he’s thinking, wonders if his memories are the same- the time in Ottawa when he puked in the hotel room after scarfing down an entire room service pizza, curled up next to Frank in the scratchy hotel bed- that wasn’t supposed to happen, of course, but watching Gerard had been well worth the hassle of holding his hair away from his face. 

In Texas that year, he’d ripped the fly of one particular old pair of trousers- Frank’s fault, sort of, as they’d spent the day wandering around the festival they were set to play, as Frank pooled their buyout money and used it all on fair food. Frank had dragged him around in the summer sun, both of them shrouded in oversized sunglasses and hoodies, Gerard snacking to his heart’s content until they’d stumbled back to the tour bus together. Frank had watched his weight creep up into the upper double digits that summer and relished in every minute of it.  
“What’re you thinking about?” Frank resists the urge to lean into him fully, because he knows that if he does, he won’t be able to pull away.  
Gerard swallows, puts down his apple fritter- Frank realizes with a start that he’s lost count of how many of those things Gerard has had- and grins. “In um, Maryland? In 05? When we went to that fucking diner in Mount Airy. I thought I was gonna pass out.” Gerard is still grinning, but his voice wavers, shakes like he’s about to lose it over the memory alone. Frank frowns for a moment, because, which diner? There had been so many over the years, but he suddenly remembers. Gerard with his fingers in his mouth, Gerard being the only one of them to order fucking dessert after a huge brunch and bitching and moaning about his stomach in the back of the van, There’s a deep flush over the bridge of his dainty nose and his full cheeks, all the way up to his ears.  
“And, um.” He takes a sip from his water bottle like nothing is wrong. “That I might dye my hair again soon.”  
“Yeah?” Frank croaks, mouth suddenly dry.  
Gerard nods. It had already been orange, blonde, and a whitish silver in the last year. “Might just do black again.” Gerard leans over to suck a droplet of sugar off of his thumb and his shirt pulls at his stomach as he does so, and yeah, frank realizes. He’s big. He looks like himself again, like the Gerard Frank knows and loves. 

\---

2003

"Wait, wait wait wait." Gerard leans over the arm of the couch, digging through his backpack that he's been lugging back and forth to the studio for weeks now. It's mostly full of garbage at this point, candy bar wrappers, receipts from Guitar Center, last minute lyric changes that he's made despite the rest of the guys' protests that he needs to stop fucking around and record the material they'd already agreed on. "Dude." Gerard feels himself break into a grin as his hand touches his notebook in the mess. He's stoned as fuck and had mentioned in passing to Frank that he'd drawn all of them as vampires, not anything out of the ordinary for him, but Frank had been ecstatic, insisting on seeing right fucking then.  
"See?"  
He thrusts the notebook at Frank's lap, using his free hand to reach for another donut. God bless Mikey, and Matt, and Ray, and that one dude's girlfriend who was always at the studio for bringing them snacks, partly because of the long hours, but mostly because Frank had the best weed, and half of their crew is always stoned, and he's always fucking hungry.  
Frank is staring at the page in awe, grinning like it's the first time he's seen any of Gerard's art, which is a little stupid, because it isn't, and flicks his eyes between the page and Gerard as he wipes the crumbs off of his hands onto his thrifted Levi's. He's lost track of how many he's had at this point, but he really doesn't care, because he's recording an album and their friend who may or may not even be in the band is pretty cute. His hair is a little gross, though. Gerard decides to tell him this as he leans back, mouth full of grocery store cookie. Maybe Frank will shave the dreads off. Then he'd fuck him. 

2003  
Gerard's got 100% of Frank’s dick in his mouth, and at the angle he’s kneeling at, his jeans are sliding down his hips, shirt riding up as he reaches and clings to Frank’s legs to balance. He frowns and tugs at his clothes, somehow too tight and too baggy at the same time, never fitting his body right, but Frank glances downward, and says, “shit,” and pulls him in closer by the hair.  
Gerard pulls off, looks up at him through hair that’s almost in need of a trim, pulls his wrinkled shirt back down over his stomach. “What-“  
Frank quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Suck me off.” 

2004  
They’re in a hotel in Milwaukee, a shitty one, but a hotel nonetheless.  
Gerard is in frank’s bed, not so much cuddling with him as he is leaning against him, appreciating the moment of silence and comfort in the middle of a long stretch of shows. It had been an awful year, a terrifying and draining fucking year, but at the moment, Gerard is content. They’ve got some horrible rented movie on the hotel tv, and a pizza box lies between them, almost all of which Gerard had eaten alone.  
He’d offered some to frank, insistent on sharing it; he knows that Frank technically can eat dairy, just not often, but Frank refused. At nearly 200lbs- 182.7, to be exact, Gerard knows he’s more than capable of putting it away. Frank says nothing, only gives him a little kiss, nothing committal, and nudges the box closer to him on the bed.

2006

It’s easy to hide. Gerard knows this, takes pride in the fact. He’s slimmed down a bit in the last year, stopped drinking, feels generally awesome- but his stomach remains a little soft, his jeans still cut into him a little at times; but he hides it. He hides it and feels great, doesn’t mind frank bringing back treats for him and eyeing him deviously from time to time. He can have both. He can be both, and still get instantly hard whenever he overindulges because, hell, he likes to eat and likes it even more when Frank calls him names.

At the moment, moving feels like an insurmountable task. They’re at some celebratory dinner backstage with the crew, with catering and the whole lot, a weirdly formal dinner because fucking everyone he knows is there, and a label rep for some goddamn insane reason, they’re always lurking- and Gerard has royally fucked up.  
Frank is looking at him in silent awe when it hits Gerard that he’s been eating for the past hour nonstop, caught up in conversation and trying his best to impress their label rep with tour stories, only the good ones, of course- but he’s been eating and talking and his tailored clothes that cost more than his first computer are feeling insanely tight. He blinks in surprise and leans back, swears he can hear the chair fucking creak, and sips at his ice water like nothing is wrong when it most definitely /is/, because his fancy little button down shirt and custom made jacket are cutting into him and riding up in a way that would make Frank come in his own dress pants if he could see what was going on under the table.  
Frank raises his eyebrows at him behind his glass of wine, and Gerard chokes a little, always tuned in, forever shaking whenever he so much looks at him.

\---  
The Fonda, Los Angeles, 2014  
12:07 AM

Which is why Gerard finds himself on the floor nearly an hour later, feeling like he’s about to burst out of his suit, squirming around and begging Frank for a shred of relief.  
It's his own fault, sort of, but he's willing to jump through whatever hoops he needs to. Maybe Frank will let him suck his dick. 

They’re always like this.  
Gerard opens his mouth to protest again but Frank shoves his fingers inside and Gerard gags, quickly trying to recover and sucking what tastes like icing off of his thumb.  
Gerard always ends up on the floor.  
He smiles to himself a little, coughing at the scratch of pure sugar in the back of his throat. "Gimme a sec," He says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He shifts around on the thin carpet, wincing as his stomach churns and his knees scream in pain. He opens his eyes and Frank is looking at him with a mixture of lust and concern- that's always what it is, Frank pushing him and punishing him while getting all anxious over Gerard's wellbeing.  
Gerard stares down at his shirt, at a strained button, at his own thighs in his designer dress pants and his own absurdly hard dick. 

Frank chokes out a laugh from somewhere above him. "Please don't tell me your knees hurt dude, god, you're not that old," but Gerard feels a hand on his arm nonetheless, pulling him to a wobbly standing position and back into his chair. He relaxes a little and feels Frank kissing him, hears Frank's shortened breaths against his neck and thinks that it might all be worth it after all. He leans in, wanting to touch Frank's hair. He looks like a dad, like a really hot dad. Gerard doesn't tell him this, instead starts to undo his own belt and slacks, ready to shove Frank's hand in at a moment's notice, warily watching the buttons on his shirt. "You still gonna tell me I did a good job?" He grins, knowing how to push Frank's buttons.  
Frank smiles back, yanking Gerard's clothes out of the way like they've personally offended him. "Nah," he says. "Not until you're done."


End file.
